


Hinata Hajime, Private Investigator

by kiryuinsisters



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiryuinsisters/pseuds/kiryuinsisters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Private eye Hinata Hajime receives a mysterious call offering a large sum of money for him to investigate a case. However, there is one condition – Hinata must work alongside another detective, a man named Komaeda Nagito…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a komahina buddy cop AU where they wear cool trenchcoats and fight crime - extra tags, ratings etc. will be added as the story goes on.

“Come out! We know you’re in there!”

Hajime crouched behind a pallet of bricks, clutching the silver briefcase tightly. His heart wildly pounded, feeling as if it would knock the case from his hands at any moment. He poked his head around the corner, scanning his surroundings. With all the shelves and crates in the warehouse it was difficult to spot the thugs that were roaming the warehouse. Apart from a blur here and there, Hajime was completely in the dark.

The situation wasn’t ideal. Both exits were on the other side of the warehouse, no doubt guarded as well. They were up against a dozen men, and since they were the ones who had pissed them off in the first place negotiation was off the table. Worst of all…

“Looks like we’re in a bit of a pickle, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda crouched next to him, his hand on his chin as he posed thoughtfully. “I’m all out of ideas.”

“Good – it was your dumb idea that got us into this mess,” Hinata grumbled. He had known this guy for a whole of fifteen minutes and already he could tell he was going to be nothing but trouble.

“Aww, don’t be like that.” Komaeda pouted. “We’re partners now, after all. Partners need to work together!”

****

“Work together?”

Hajime sat in small swivel chair in his office, phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear so he could hold his notepad. The bottom half of his large brown coat sat crumpled concertina-style underneath him, forming a cushion that was significantly more comfortable than the cheap seat. He put his feet up on his desk, careful not to knock off the pile of manila folders that were his ongoing investigations.

“Yes,” the deep voice over the phone rumbled. “This job is big – too big for just one private investigator. If you find these conditions to be unacceptable I can easily hire someone else.”

Hajime looked down at his scrawled notes on the pad. The man had not given him a lot to work with. He refused to give any name or case details, only requesting that he do this job alongside another detective of the client’s choosing and promising fifty thousand dollars in cash upon completion. The figure had been underlined multiple times on the page, mostly out of disbelief.

“…alright. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Hajime put on a low, serious voice to match the client’s, trying to hide his excitement. “What do you want me to do?”

“There is an industrial estate just south of town. I have left a metal suitcase in the fourth warehouse on the left. The details of your assignment are inside, as well as a small up-front deposit that should cover any costs the investigation may incur. Are we clear?”

Hajime nodded as he scribbled furiously. “Crystal. I’m guessing that when I find something it will be you contacting me.”

“Naturally.” With a click and a dial tone, the mystery caller was gone. Hajime hung up the phone and scooped up his car keys. His other ongoing projects could wait. This sounded like the big one, and Hajime could hardly wait to get started.

****

Leaning against the hood of his off-white Volvo sedan, Hajime scoped out the estate. Originally he had planned to simply park in front of the warehouse and walk in, but after seeing group of thugs hovering outside the front door he decided to pull into the lot next door. None of them had noticed him yet, but they had the doors well-guarded.

He weighed up his options. These men were certainly an obstacle, but from the looks of them their only intention was mindless loitering. With a little persuasion there was a fair chance they may simply let him in. Hajime was unarmed, not having suspected he’d run into trouble, but as long as the group didn’t see him as a threat he felt relatively safe.

Hajime started walking towards the group, but was interrupted by a loud rumbling approaching the car. A man in construction gear and a reflective jacket driving a forklift was heading in his direction. The forklift pulled up behind him and the man clambered off, leaving the forklift in gear. “I wouldn’t recommend that, Hinata-kun,” he said, a playful tone in his voice.

“Do I know you?” Hajime asked, frowning. The construction worker smiled and took off his work goggles and helmet, revealing a crazy mess of white hair and pale grey eyes. He tossed them over his shoulder, in a way that made it very clear he was not a real construction worker.

“Komaeda Nagito, private eye. Pleased to meet you.” The two shook hands, with Hajime still a little taken aback. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t heard of me. After all, I’m nowhere near as well-known a detective as you are.”

“Oh. I… see.” Hajime looked at the forklift, still a little dumbfounded. “Well, perhaps you could get me up to speed on the situation.”

“Absolutely!” Komaeda made a grand sweeping gesture towards the thugs outside of the warehouse. “Obviously, we cannot enter the warehouse. So I have devised a strategy that will allow us to enter completely undetected!”

Komaeda walked around to the back of the forklift and picked up a large, rough block of concrete off the carry tray. With a grunt, he tossed it inside the forklift and onto the accelerator. The forklift took off by itself, headed straight for the thugs.

“Hey, wait!” Hajime went to chase after the forklift, but stopped when he realised there was no way to catch up to it. Instead, he spun around to the face the man watching the forklift with a dumb grin on his face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Causing a distraction,” Komaeda explained, shrugging nonchalantly. “Come on, we’d better hurry!”

The two men ran towards the warehouse, watching as the panicked thugs dived out of the way of the forklift. Once they were back on their feet they chased after the out of control vehicle, leaving the warehouse door completely unguarded. Hajime and Komaeda slipped in the open door, keeping an eye out for any remaining thugs. Komaeda smiled proudly.

“Well, guess we’d better find the suitcase and get out of here fast. Those guys could come back at any minute.”

****

I guess we took too long, Hajime thought begrudgingly. Judging by how loud the footsteps were getting they were no more than a couple of minutes away from being found. There was only one thing they had on their side, and that was the element of surprise. As much as Hajime hated to admit it, there was only one way out.

“Komaeda.” Hajime turned to face his new partner, a serious look on his face. “Can you handle yourself in a fight?”

Komaeda looked confused for a moment, but that confusion quickly turned into a sly grin. “I think I saw a couple of crowbars earlier. If we make a run for it then we should be able to get to them before those guys can lay a single hand on us.”

“It’s as good a plan as any.” Hajime turned the collar of his coat up, ready for action. “Three… two… one… Go!”


	2. Chapter 2

It was a surreal experience for Hajime. At two in the afternoon the diner still had a decent amount of customers, most of them young trendy hipsters sitting behind Macbooks and businessmen trying to win over potential clients with strong coffee and blatant flattery. Waitresses flitted from table to table, making themselves as unobtrusive as possible while still maintaining enough of a presence to ensure nobody would forget to tip. Yet with all these people in the diner not a single one had even looked twice at the giant bloody gash in his forehead.

Hajime held a bundle of napkins over his wound, having discovered that one wasn’t enough to soak up all the blood. He doubted he would need stiches or anything, but this killer headache would be haunting him the rest of the day. Komaeda sat across the table, looking almost as battered and bruised as he was. His reflective jacket was stained with blood, though god knows whether it was actually his or not. It was doubtful the jacket was even his, to be honest.

“Can I take your order?” a young girl with a notepad asked, staring at the table between them so she wouldn’t be tempted to ogle at their injuries. It was polite of her, but still felt… was disingenuous the word? Hajime patted himself down, running his hands down his coat to check each pocket. No wallet. He shrugged in apology.

“Hinata-kun, did you forget?” Komaeda lifted the aluminium suitcase onto the table, swivelling it around to face Hajime and the waitress. He opened the clasps on the front and lifted the lid, watching their eyes widen and jaws drop. Stacks and stacks of money were lined up in neat rows, with a pair of handguns set into the foam lid to boot.

Hajime reached over and slammed the lid shut, looking from side to side to make sure they hadn’t drawn any unnecessary attention. The waitress stood stiff, staring back down at the table again. Hajime sighed. “Two cups of coffee,” he said through gritted teeth. The waitress nodded and hurried off to the kitchen.

“Perhaps you could be a little more subtle next time,” Hajime muttered under his breath just loud enough for only Komaeda to hear. His partner smiled sheepishly. It seemed the waitress was the only one who’d seen, and if her demeanour was anything to go by wasn’t going to be telling anyone.

Komaeda turned the suitcase back towards him and cracked the lid open, slouching as he peeked through the small gap. “There’s a letter in here, tucked in beside the money. Should I pull it out?”

Hajime gave the room one last nervous scan. “Alright. Go ahead.” Komaeda stretched his fingers inside and fished out the envelope. It was plain and white, just like any standard one you’d get at a post office. Komaeda held it up and read the writing on the front.

“It’s addressed to someone, but I don’t recognise the name. There’s a little scribble in the bottom right corner that says we’re not allowed to open it.”

Hajime frowned. “We’re detectives, not mailmen. Why should we have to do this guy’s chores?”

“Perhaps the contents of this letter are of a sensitive nature.” Komaeda tossed the envelope down onto the table. “Anyway, there’s an address so maybe whoever’s there will tell us more.”

Hajime looked over the envelope. The name wasn’t familiar to him either, but he recognised the street. It was a downtown address, in the outskirts of the entertainment district. He went down there a couple of times a week, mostly to trail unfaithful husbands and kids sneaking out.

“Alright, let’s get a move on.” Hajime tucked the letter into his jacket and stood up.

“What about our coffee?”

“Forget the coffee. After this morning’s gone I need something a little stronger anyway.”

****

The duo arrived at their destination half an hour later, having made a detour to pick up Komaeda’s real clothes. As he suspected the construction worker gear was ‘borrowed’, for the purpose of then ‘borrowing’ a forklift. He’d left his actual clothes just outside the industrial estate, tied up in a plastic bag.

Komaeda got out of the Volvo, straightening the lapels on his coat and running a hand through his messy, knotted hair. The coat looked a lot like Hajime’s (or any private eye’s for that matter – looking the part was very important) except in a light grey. He wore a nice white button down shirt and suit pants underneath, with an expensive looking belt to tie it all together. Hajime had to admit he looked pretty sharp, even with the bruised cheek and cut lip. In fact, especially with the bruised cheek and cut lip.

The address had turned out to be a hole in the wall sort of place, so easy to miss that Hajime had driven straight past it the first time. There were no signs or even windows out the front, just a plain wooden door between a strip joint and an Asian takeout place. It was the sort of place that said ‘invite only’. Hajime hoped their letter would count as enough of an invite.

Hajime opened the door with a loud creak, the daylight flooding in from behind him and illuminating the dingy metal staircase. A purple tint shone up from the bottom, leading the way. They crept down the stairs, each one just as creaky as the door. Whoever the owner of this place was, they liked to know when people were coming.

At the bottom of a staircase was another door, plain and unmarked just like the one at the top. The purple had been coming from a light mounted just above the door, covered by a metal grille as if it was a vicious animal that needed to be restrained. Hajime cracked opened the second door, but as he did a sword slid out through the gap and rested on his collar bone.

“State your business!” shouted the voice from the other side. Hajime kept an eye on the blade, replying in the most calm, professional manner he could manage with a weapon against his throat.

“We’re here to deliver a letter. Is there a Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu here?”


	3. Chapter 3

The man rested one arm again the back of the velvet couch, inspecting the letter in his other hand in a casual manner. The creases in his tailored pants seemed to magically iron themselves out as he slung his legs up onto the ottoman in front of him, giving the detectives a good view of his polished formal shoes. Hajime wasn’t a footwear expert, but he couldn’t see them being worth any less than a couple hundred dollars. Between those and the man’s flashy pinstripe suit it was obvious this guy had serious cash and wasn’t shy about it.

Hajime squirmed as he tried to get comfortable in his own plush seat, but the presence over his shoulder made it very difficult. From the moment the door guard had let them in her hand hadn’t left the hilt of her sword, even after sheathing it. The sword may not have been against his throat anymore but he still felt vulnerable. Everything about the gangster’s bodyguard was discomforting, from her schoolgirl outfit, unusual to see on a grown woman outside of dirty magazines, to her cold glare coming from behind her thin-rimmed glasses.

The man known as Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu held the envelope out to one side, gripping it between his forefinger and middle finger as if it were lit and he had just taken a drag. He frowned at the pair of men in front of him. “So tell me. Why exactly are detectives delivering my mail?”

“Believe me, we’re wondering the same thing.” Hajime looked over at Komaeda as he spoke, but his partner was too busy looking around the room to notice. The place had turned out to be a nightclub, though this early in the afternoon it was completely empty save for Kuzuryuu and his bodyguard. Any other time they may have been taken to a private room, but since they were unlikely to be interrupted they had taken a seat in the main lounge.

Kuryuzuu dug his fingers into the back of the envelope, shredding it more than opening it. He pulled out the letter inside and scrunched up the mangled envelope, dropping it on the couch next to him. Hajime and Komaeda sat in dead silence as he read the letter, watching as he occasionally mouthed out difficult words.

Kuzuryuu sighed and scrunched up the letter, placing it next to the envelope. He put his legs down and rested his elbows on them, leaning forward. “So you have no idea who this client of yours is?”  
“None whatsoever.” Kuzuryuu frowned at Hajime. Obviously it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“Yesterday afternoon about twenty men disappeared from one of my meth labs outside of town, along with a sizeable amount of goods. Apparently your client somehow found out about this and tells me he wants to see the men found as much as I do.”

“Which is where we step in?” Komaeda placed his hand on his chin, raising an eyebrow at Kuzuryuu.

“Shut up, jackass. That decision is for me to make.” Kuzuryuu stood up and began to pace around the room. It wasn’t noticeable when he was sitting down but he was a lot shorter than he’d originally appeared. He groaned unhappily as he walked. “I don’t get it. There’s got to be a catch. Why would some asshole be sticking his nose in my business?”

Komaeda cleared his throat. “Kurzuyuu-san. The way I see it, this is a win-win situation for you. If we find your guys, you’ve got a meth lab up and running again. If something goes wrong the only thing you’ve lost is two detectives you weren’t even paying in the first place.”

“Nobody asked for your opinion, loser.” Kuzuryuu rubbed his forehead. “But fine, you guys can investigate. Pekoyama will give you the address of the lab and a list of the missing guys.” He flashed a look at his bodyguard, who went off into the backroom without a single word.

“One last question.” Hajime stood up to face Kuzuryuu, taking advantage of his height to make an impression on the man. “How do we know these guys of yours haven’t just run off with your money? By now they could be sipping cocktails on a beach in Puerto Rico.”

“Impossible. I don’t have a single man I would not trust with my own life.” Kuzuryuu turned away from him, crossing his arms. “If anything it’s outsiders like you I should be cautious about. Now go get the stuff off Pekoyama and get out of here before I change my mind.”

****

Hajime tucked the loaded gun down the back of his pants, letting his coat fall down and conceal it. Komaeda chose to keep his in his inside breast pocket, keeping a cautious hand on the trigger at all times. The farmhouse looked intimidating in the moonlight, especially since the two of them knew the building’s true purpose. Hajime didn’t know a lot about meth but the labs were supposed to be volatile to say the least. They would both have to be careful inside.

“Are you ready for this?” Komaeda gave Hajime a sobering look. “You’re about to go into a criminal hideout with only a guy you met this morning as backup. Anything could happen in there.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m placing my trust in you, and I’d like to thank you in advance for placing your trust in me.” Hajime slammed the boot of his car closed, leaving the aluminium case inside. “As long as we keep it together we’ll be fine.”

Komaeda couldn’t hide his dumb grin. “Keep saying cool stuff like that and I’ll just end up admiring you even more, Hinata-kun.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Let’s get a move on.”

The pair crouched down and snuck towards the farmhouse, climbing up the porch steps and up to the door. Hajime got up and twisted the knob, but as he expected it was locked. He took a step back and drove his heel in right above the handle, busting through the rotted old wood. Komaeda went in first, elbowing the rest of the door open and edging his way along the wall as if he were a SWAT operative.

The two entered what appeared to be the dining room of the house, keeping an eye on the doors and windows. Hajime had been expecting bullet holes and broken furniture, but there was nothing of the sort. Everything was in perfect order, as if the inhabitants would walk back in at any minute.

Komaeda poked at a plate on the table. A half-eaten ham sandwich was still sitting on it, stale but still in fairly good shape. “Spooky, huh? It’s the sort of thing you’d expect from the Bermuda Triangle. I’m getting excited just thinking about it!”

“I’ll get the lights so we can have a better look.” Hajime fumbled his way across the wall until he found the light switch. He flicked it down, but rather than light a deafening crack came from the roof. Hajime dropped to the ground, pressing himself against the wall. White clouds were billowing down from where the lights should have been, filling up the room. Hajime coughed as the smoke entered his lungs, clutching at his stinging eyes.

“Komaeda? Are you there? Answer me!” Hajime staggered to his feet, looking for his companion through watery eyes and the cracks of his fingers, but he was grabbed from behind by a pair of thick, rubbery hands. A cloth went over his mouth and everything faded away into silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Hajime jerked back into consciousness, gasping as the icy cold water splashed over his face. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer wearing his coat because the water drenched his his shirt, grabbing his chest like a giant frozen hand. His eyes were no longer stinging, so Hajime figured he was out at least long enough for the effects of the tear gas to wear off. He closed them so as to keep the water out of his eyeballs.

He was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, hands tied behind his back and ankles fastened to the front two legs. He gave each leg a few tugs, but the knots didn’t budge. A rough cloth pressed itself into his face, and when he opened his eyes he saw it was his captor drying him off with an old, tattered towel.

The man threw the towel onto a workbench, right next to a bucket which probably held water not ten seconds ago. They were in a sparsely furnished basement, crammed full of warm, stale air. The only objects of note in the room aside from the bench were a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner, filled with glass beakers and test tubes.

His jailer was a hefty man, shaped as if someone had crawled into a barrel and poked their skinny little arms and legs out the sides. He wore a plastic apron and thick black gloves, with a red scarf pulled up over his mouth and nose. His hair was all combed over to one side, in an action that could only be described as ‘flooping’. He leant in close and pulled his scarf down to around his neck.

“Hmph. The other pest in my lab has finally woken up.”

“Your lab?” Hinata blinked slowly, trying to recall the names on his list from Pekoyama. “You’re the meth cook? Teruteru Hanamura?”

Hanamura spat on the ground beside him and harrumphed. “Cook? Don’t insult me. Anyone can be a meth cook. I am a meth chef!”

Hajime squinted, shaking his head. “Meth chef?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“Oh no, not at all.” He tugged at the ropes binding his wrists to the chair. “So Ratatouille, any chance you could loosen these off for me?”

“Watch your mouth, asshole.” Hanamura picked a meat cleaver up off the bench, clutching it in his oversized gloves. “Pretty boy tried to sass me as well, and look how well that worked for him.”

“Komaeda?” Hajime shook the bindings even harder. “What did you do to him?” Hanamura held the knife up to Hajime’s face, showing him the specks of blood still left on the blade. Hajime held his breath until the cook pulled the knife away to a safe distance.

“He was spouting crap before. Saying you guys were sent by the big boss Kuzuryuu himself. Is that true?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Hajime nodded furiously. “We’re here to find out what happened.”

“What happened? A fucking setup, that’s what happened. Some rat stopped the cook. The pigs wouldn’t have dared fire a single shot otherwise.”

“The police?” Hajme frowned. “Kuzuryuu said none of your guys had turned up in jail.”

“Of course not. The bacon mowed ‘em all down.” Hanamura rubbed his forehead, visibly stressed. “They were armed like a fucking SWAT team. If I hadn’t locked myself in a storage closet I’d be stone cold dead as the rest of them.”

Something wasn’t right. Hajime thought back to the living room, with no blood or bodies anywhere to be seen. On top of that, if the cops had really killed everyone Kuzuryuu’s men would have found reports back at the station. None of it added up.

Hanamura stuck the cleaver into the bench and stared vacantly at it. “Before you say anything, I saw upstairs too. Clean as a fucking whistle. What the hell are they playing at, huh?” Hanamura’s giant gloves trembled in rage.

“Hanamura, you need to let us out.” Hajime put on his serious voice for the man, trying to calm him down. “The sooner we solve this, the sooner you can come out of hiding.”

“Shit!” Hanamura’s voice was quaking. “I gots a ma, you know! She aint heard from her lil’ chicken in two days!”

“Hanamura! Listen to me!”

The cook pulled the cleaver out of the bench and paced over towards Hajime. His ragged breathing filled the quiet room, echoing off the concrete walls. Standing behind Hajime, he grabbed the detective’s wrist and took to the ropes with the knife. Hajime could feel the blood coming back to his hands as Hanamura sawed away.

“Your friend’s gagged in the next room. A couple of cuts, but nothing too bad.” The ropes holding Hajime’s wrists fell to the ground as Hanamura got started on the ones on his ankles. “If I find out you’re stabbed me in the back once you’re out, I will stab you in the face. That’s a promise.”

****

Hajime shielded his eyes from the morning sun as he staggered out to the car, holding up a limping Komaeda. Hanamura was an inventive torturer to say the least, leaving a series of shallow cuts on the underside of his partner’s left knee. In his right arm Hajime carried their coats, which had been taken off by the cook before he’d tied them up. The guns were tucked inside, still loaded.

“I heard most of what’s going on from the other room,” Komaeda explained. “Should we go back to Kuzuryuu and tell him what we’ve got so far?”

“What we’ve got?” Hajime laughed bitterly. “We’ve got nothing, Komaeda. We’ve gotta find out about these cops – that is, if they were real cops.”

“They do seem fishy, to say the least.” They got to the car and Komaeda put a hand against it, catching his breath. “Alright, let’s head down to the station. We’ll say we’re concerned citizens who happened to hear rumours about a meth lab outside of town. If they know nothing then the cops were fakes.”

Hajime opened the rear door and tossed the coats on the back seat. “Sounds good to me. But, uh… Are you sure you’re alright?”

“You’re not worried about me, are you? I’m flattered.”

“You literally just got tied up and tortured! Of course I’m worried about you.” Komaeda didn’t say anything, just smiled affectionately. Hajime paused for a moment. He felt like he should do something, but he wasn’t sure what. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Komaeda, locking into an awkward hug. He patted him on the back a couple of times, trying to make the gesture seem more manly. Hajime stepped back and cleared his throat.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hajime lolled his head back into the driver seat’s headrest, letting out a deep sigh. For almost half an hour now there had been nothing but static through the CB radio. For all they knew the policeman wasn’t even in his office anymore. It’s not like they had any other urgent demands, but Hajime still couldn’t help but wonder if this was really the best way they could be using their time.

Komaeda sat in the passenger seat, kneed tucked up to his chest and eyes fixed on the radio. The frustration was spreading across his face as well, manifesting as a map of wrinkles across his brow. The bug in the office was his, and if there was no payoff he would have lost a perfectly good piece of equipment. Hajime didn’t use them bugs very often himself but he knew they were expensive enough that you didn’t want to waste them on false leads.

“You know, there’s two of us here.” Hajime learnt forward on the steering wheel, looking out the front window at the police station just down the road. “One of us could get started on another lead while the other keeps going with the stakeout.”

Komaeda rubbed his chin, stroking the messy stubble sprouting from his face. Hajime guessed he probably didn’t look much different himself. Spending the night unconscious in a meth lab isn’t what you’d call beauty sleep. Both of them would benefit from a good shower and shave. “You said it yourself earlier, Hinata-kun. We don’t have anything else. This officer is our nest bet.”

As per Komaeda’s suggestion, they’d gone into the station under the guise of clueless citizens doing their civil duty. As luck would have it, they ended up being assigned the worst liar on the police force as their interviewer. The second they’d brought up the meth lab the man broke out into a cold sweat, shuffling in his chair and tapping the arms of his chair. He’d insisted there was nothing to worry about and ushered them out the door as quickly as possible, but not before Komaeda had the chance to slip a bug into a potted plant.

Hajime cleaned out an ear with his little finger. This static was driving him insane. He decided to strike up conversation with his partner to take his mind off it. “You know Komaeda, you still haven’t told me much about yourself.”

“What’s there to tell? I’m a pretty ordinary person.” The sides of Komaeda’s mouth turned up as he watched the radio. “And there’s no need to tell me anything about yourself either. I know all there is to know.”

“I don’t know whether to flattered or thinking about a restraining order.”

Komaeda laughed. “I guess you could say admiring detectives is a pastime of mine. That’s why I became one as well. I wanted to help amazing people like you out in any way possible.”

“Well if you say detectives are amazing people, doesn’t that make you an amazing person as well?”

“Oh no. Don’t be silly.” Komaeda turned to Hajime, looking everywhere but directly at him. “Besides, I didn’t mean you’re amazing just because you’re a detective. You’re… Well, never mind.”

Komaeda turned away from him, looking out his side window. Was he… blushing? Hajime looked away as well, feeling his own cheeks get warm. What was Komaeda about to say to him? He glanced back over to his partner, his attention once more drawn to his stubble. It was a good for him, giving his jawline a rugged, handsome edge. Hajime wondered what it would feel like to touch it…

What the hell was he thinking about? Hajime needed to get out of the car as soon as possible. He cleared his throat, drawing Komaeda’s attention. “I’m going to get us some coffee. You can hold down the fort, right?” Hajime cracked open the car door, but Komaeda grabbed him lightly by the wrist.

“Wait.” Komaeda looked over, but was still refusing to make eye contact. “You’ve still got that big scar on your forehead. You could attract unwanted attention and blow our cover.”

“You were fine with me walking into the station with the scar. What am I supposed to do about it? Get someone to kiss it b…” Hajime’s voice trailed off as Komaeda’s lips brushed against his forehead.

Komaeda scampered back over to his side of the car, grabbing the radio and looking out the side window again. “White, no sugar,” he whispered, his voice a little higher than it was before. Hajime sat in shock for a moment before nodding and getting out of the car. His dazed expression stayed plastered on his face as he closed the door and wandered down the street.

Hajime lifted his hand to his forehead and lightly touched his scar, right where Komaeda had kissed him. That was definitely a kiss, right? Things were getting weird. When he’d taken this case he hadn’t counted on gangsters, meth cooks and a man called Komaeda Nagito.

The coffee shop passed by as Hajime continued on down the street. It was unfair of him to leave Komaeda where he was without saying anything, but he needed time to get his thoughts straight. It was time to get that drink he’d promised himself yesterday, and he knew exactly where to go.


	6. Chapter 6

Hajime threw his head back, trying to get the alcohol down his throat with as little contact with his tongue as possible. Shots were not his thing, and there was a good reason for that. His attempt was a complete failure. Foul liquid sloshed around his tonsils as it went down, turning his throat into a toxic waterslide. He winced as he slammed his shot glass down beside him.

“Another?” The girl behind the counter held the bottle up, eager to pour again. Hajime grimaced and shook his head.

“Back to the regular, thanks. I could do with something to wash that down.”

Hajime leant an elbow on the bar, surveying the crowd. Outside it may have been ten in the morning outside but it seemed nobody in here wanted to know. Businessmen sat in booths with their ties slung over their shoulders, chuckling to each other while ogling the girls passing by. People stood shoulder to shoulder around the railing at the main stage, making a racket that almost drowned out the generic dance music. Money flew around like confetti, slipping out of hands lubricated with alcohol and sexual frustration.

In case it wasn’t clear, Hajime was at a strip club.

Hearing the clink of glass against marble, Hajime reached out and grabbed the drink without so much as a glance. He took a sip, swishing the bourbon and Coke around in his mouth to get rid of the taste of whatever the hell he’d ordered before. The girls here could be trusted for solid information on targets, but it seemed their recommendations regarding the drinks menu was a different matter.

Hajime headed over to the private rooms, the clinking ice in his glass making more noise than his footsteps. A set of regal purple curtains swished open and out staggered an old man grinning like an idiot. He gave Hajime a wink and a daggy thumbs up, wiggling his eyebrows. Hajime rolled his eyes and took a big gulp of his drink before going in.

Sitting on the velvet couch was a young woman, pulling her mismatched, tattered stockings back up to her thighs. Long hair with all manner of coloured streaks fell down all over her, covering slivers of her almost bare body. It reminded Hajime of the old paintings you’d see of Greek goddesses, or perhaps the photographs of young girls with flower crowns standing in fields that seemed to adorn music magazines in shops these days. The pieces of tape crossed over each other in an ‘X’ fashion obscuring her nipples seemed a little inadequate in comparison, to say the least. She poked her tongue out when she saw Hajime, scrunching her eyes shut.

“Well, if it isn’t the city’s coolest detective! Ibuki hasn’t seen you in ages!”

Hajime rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been… busy, to say the least.”

“So what can Ibuki do for you today?” Her eyes lit up as she bounced to her feet. “Are we hunting down an unfaithful husband? Chasing a man on the run? Ooh, maybe even coming face to face with a dangerous crime lord?”

“Nah, I did that yesterday – I’m trying to cut down on dangerous crime lords for now.” Hajime threw back the last of his drink and put his glass down on a small table. He was trying very hard not to think about the fact he’d gotten through it in three gulps, a pretty clear indicator of his mental state. “In fact, today isn’t a business call.”

“Is that right?” The stripper smiled. “Ibuki gets off in another hour, so you can hang around or come back later. You’re taking me out for lunch, are you?”

“Not quite.” Hajime sat down on the lounge and pullet his wallet out of his coat. “Um, I’ve never actually done this before to be honest. How much do people usually, you know, pay you?”

Ibuki stared blankly at Hajime. “For dances, you mean?”

“Well… yeah.” Hajime was going red. “This is a strip club, isn’t it? And you are a stripper.”

Ibuki shook her head, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. “Ibuki never fails to be surprised.” She took his wallet and put it on the side table next to his empty glass. “No charge, Hinata-kun. This one’s on the house.”

Hajime squirmed in his seat as Ibuki straddled him, running her hands through her wild hair. She lifted herself right up so her breasts dangled right in front of Hajime’s face and slowly swayed to the music, running her hands over her body. Hajime let out a deep, liquor-tinged breath, willing himself to fall into the moment.

As he watched Ibuki’s hands run down the inside of her thighs he forced his imagination into overdrive. He imagined his hands in the place of hers, his own sweat covered fingers digging into her soft skin instead of her own. He imagined sliding the thin piece of fabric covering her freshly shaved pussy down around her legs. He imagined rolling Ibuki onto her back, imagined how she’d sound calling his name between crazed, horny moans.

But Hajime knew that wasn’t him. This was nothing but a forced mockery.

“No. No! Stop!” Ibuki came to a slow halt, crawling backwards off him. Hajime knelt forward, putting his face in his hands. “I… just can’t.”

“Hinata-kun?” Ibuki’s voice was a mix of confusion and genuine concern.

“I’m sorry, Mioda-chan. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He slowed down his breathing, trying to regain his composure. “I thought this would help. It was a stupid idea.”

Ibuki sat down next to Hajime on the lounge, resting an arm over his shoulder. Hajime sat back up again, taking one last deep breath. He shook his head, scolding himself in silence.

“Mioda-chan, I’m knee deep in shit with corrupt cops and gangsters. Why the hell did I have to get feelings for my co-worker right now?”

“Ibuki thinks you worry too much.” The girl smiled, softly tilting her head to one side. “If you explain things how they are, I’m sure your feelings will reach her.”

“Him.”

The room went silent as Ibuki froze, her jaw dropping just enough to betray her surprise. She leant back into the lounge, frowning. After a short pause, she spoke again. “Hinata-kun. There are two things I know for sure. One is that you’re a damn good detective and whatever this case is, you can close it.”

“And what’s the other thing?”

Ibuki leant in and gave Hajime a light kiss on the cheek. “That anyone would be lucky to have you, male or female.”

Hajime shook his head as he got to his feet, grabbing the lapels of his coat and shrugging it back on properly. Ibuki passed him his wallet, which he tucked inside his coat. “Thanks. I probably don’t say it often enough, but I’m really glad someone like you is watching out for me” Mioda giggled, shrugging.

“Get out of here. You’ve got a mystery to solve.”


	7. Chapter 7

“It took you two hours to get coffee?”

Hajime leant against the open passenger door and sipped from his cup. He shrugged and tilted his head to the side, as if he’d been tickled on the chin. Komaeda, to his credit, had still been there waiting for him when he got back. He didn’t seem angry, so Hajime decided not to press the issue if he wasn’t going to.

“They ran out of coffee beans. Any progress on your end?”

Komaeda scrunched up the side of his mouth. “We’re not gonna get anything out of him like this.”

“I know. That’s why we’re moving to plan B.”

“I didn’t think we had one of those.”

“We didn’t.” Hajime chugged down his coffee, hoping the kick would come sooner rather than later. “I’m gonna need you to follow my lead on this. Do you trust me?”

“Do you still need to ask?” Komaeda gave one of his signature wild grins and I couldn’t help but follow suit.

“By the way, about before… The, uh, kiss.”

Komaeda’s grin faded away as he stiffened up. His eyes dropped to the floor, like a child about to receive a scolding. Hajime finished his coffee and knelt down, letting the Styrofoam cup drop into the gutter. He pressed his lips against Komaeda’s, smirking as he did so. The man’s lips were dry and warm and he could feel them twitch in surprise.

“You missed.”

****

Hajime shoved open the glass door, doing his best impression of a cowboy entering a saloon. Pulling this off was going to be 20% about swagger and 80% about sheer luck. Moreover, there wasn’t going to be a second chance if he screwed this up. Hajime put his thoughts of failure aside and locked eyes with the officer behind the desk, scowling.

“Bring the inspector out here, and let him know we are not impressed.”

Komaeda had picked up on the mood and was now leaning against a wall, hand against one hip. He looked more like he was trying to model than intimidate anyone, but it would have to do. Besides, the fact that Komaeda was a bit of a dork was one of the best things about him.

The inspector poked his head around the corner and frowned at the pair. “Is there a problem?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.” Hajime strode across the room, covering the distance between him and the inspector in moments. “We’re going to have a word with you in your office.”

The inspector gave a single nod, jaw slack and brow furrowed. It seemed he was going to go along with whatever they said. They went into the office and Hajime gestured towards the man’s own chair. He sat down as Hajime loomed over him from the other side of the desk, Komaeda with his arms crossed in the background.

“What the hell was that?” Hajime pounded his hand against the desk, making a quite satisfying thud. “An idiot could have called your bluff back there! What would have happened if we were actual citizens?”

The cogs whirring in the inspector’s head were almost audible. “Sir, I am so sorry…”

“I don’t want sorry. I want people who won’t blow our god damn cover!” Hajime turned to Komaeda. “Remind me again why we’re paying off these morons…”

Komaeda was silent, so Hajime gave him a slight eyebrow lift of encouragement. He cleared his throat. “Yeah! Let’s, uh, bust a cap in his ass?” Oh. Hajime decided it was probably best to not let Komaeda speak again.

Hajime turned to face the inspector again, puffing up his chest. “What my partner is trying to say is we have no need for loose ends, so if you wanna live you’d better tie your ass up fast. Where are we at with the bodies?”

“Disposed of just as you guys instructed.”

“And the weapons?”

“Back in lockup. Nobody will even know they were missing.” Primal fear shone in the man’s eyes. In this state he’d probably give them a detailed list of every bit of office stationery he’d ever stolen if they asked.

“So it seems you guys can do your jobs after all.” Hajime turned away and stuck his nose up in the air. “I’ll let your behaviour slide this once, but don’t think I’ll be so lenient next time. Give me the name of the person you’ve been in liaison with. I’ll speak to them if further issues arise.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The inspector grappled around his desk for a pen and paper. “I’ll write it down for you. After all, this office could be bugged for all we know.”

Hajime held back a smile. “Now you’re learning.”

The inspector scribbled down a name and passed it to Hajime. He stuffed it straight in his coat pocket and walked out, not giving the inspector another word more. Komaeda followed suit, giving the inspector one last exaggerated glare before they left.

“So who’s our man?” Komaeda asked once they were out of the station.

“Woman.” Hajime pulled out the paper scrap and passed it to his partner. “Recognise the name?”

Komaeda stared at the paper in stunned silence. “You mean you have no idea?”

“Am I supposed to?”

Komaeda hmmed under his breath. “Let me put it this way. Going back to see Kuzuryuu is definitely our next move.”


End file.
